


live right now

by downthedarkpath



Series: i still see it verse [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Camping, Comedy, Cute, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Roadtrip, Slice of Life, soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:54:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28992522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downthedarkpath/pseuds/downthedarkpath
Summary: “When you said romantic getaway,” George says, “I thought you meant just the two of us.”Dream laughs. He might be laughing at him, but George isn’t sure. He definitely isn’t laughing with him. He curls his right hand over the steering wheel, puts his left one on George’s knee like it’s supposed to comfort him. “What do you mean?”
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Karl Jacobs/Sapnap
Series: i still see it verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2125497
Comments: 77
Kudos: 342





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so..... im back again... didnt expect to be here, but here in fact i am.
> 
> this occurs in the 'but i still see it' universe (which is...a universe now...) and is the product of some brainstorming done by myself and [yitus](https://twitter.com/hyxmix), who drew some [art](https://twitter.com/hyxmix/status/1353789365990776832?s=20) of the very first scene!!!
> 
> title from [the middle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FV-HPOHu8mY) by jimmy eats world.

“When you said romantic getaway,” George says, “I thought you meant just the two of us.”

Dream laughs. He might be laughing at him, but George isn’t sure. He definitely isn’t laughing with him. He curls his right hand over the steering wheel, puts his left one on George’s knee like it’s supposed to comfort him. “What do you mean?”

George does his best to ignore the noise from the back of the car. “What do _you_ mean, what do you mean?”

“I think this is quite romantic,” Dream says. “Besides, I never specified that this would be just the two of us.”

“You never specified that it wouldn’t be. What was I supposed to assume?” George asks, “that you booked a holiday for everyone and their aunt?”

“Well, no,” Dream says. “But you could have asked if you weren’t sure.”

“Why would I ask? Why wouldn’t you tell me at the start?!”

Dream shrugs. He starts the engine. “I dunno. I thought it’d make a nice surprise.”

George has to resist the urge to hit something. From the back of the car, half the goddamn team cheer at him.

* * *

Barely an hour passes before Sapnap starts banging on the back window. George is about one wrong move from throttling him, years of friendship be damned. Dream pulls the car over as soon as he can, and George slumps in the passenger seat.

He isn’t sulking, but it’s a near thing.

Dream leaves the driver's side door open, sitting on the edge of the seat, angling himself towards the outside, but leaning back against the wheel so he can spin around to talk to George. “Are you really mad about this?”

George deliberately ignores the way Quackity is throwing dry leaves at Sapnap. “I’m not mad. A bit annoyed, maybe. I was kind of looking forward to spending time with you.”

“You spend your entire life with me.”

“So?”

“Don’t you get tired of me?”

George shakes his head. “Do you get tired of _me_?”

“No,” Dream is quick to say. George doesn’t doubt his genuineness. “Never. And you know, we can abandon the others at some point if you really want to. I just thought that, you know, you’d miss them if they weren’t here.”

“Why would I miss them?” George says, “I spend far too much time with them already.”

Dream shrugs, “no reason, I guess. I just think you would. I’ll send them home if you really want them to leave.”

“It’s fine,” George says. At least, it’s fine for now. “They’re not that annoying. I can deal with them, I guess. We are staying in separate rooms, though, right?”

Dream laughs this time. He leans back on the steering wheel until it must be hurting his spine and laughs. “We’re staying separately, don’t worry. You think I’d make you room with Quackity and Sapnap? You think I’d subject _myself_ to that?”

* * *

“Where are we even going?” George asks. Three hours in. Roads have given way to the country; he can hear the team bouncing around in the back like they’re having the time of their lives and elects to ignore them all. He wonders how many bruises they’ll have tomorrow. 

Dream hums, “nowhere special. Just a place.”

“What sort of place?”

“A nice place.”

“Dream.”

“Okay, fine,” Dream says. He takes his eyes off the road for the split second it takes him to give George a look. “We’re going camping.”

“We’re going _what._ ”

When George turns to look at him, he can only see the side of Dream’s face. It’s enough to see his smirk, the self-satisfied sort of grin that’s no doubt brewing beneath his skin. “Camping,” Dream repeats, “we’re gonna pitch some tents, make some campfires, sing songs. Have fun, you know?”

“There’s a lot I’ll do for you,” George says, deadly deadly serious. “And there’s a lot I’ll do for the team, as much as I hate to admit it. Sleeping in a tent is _not_ one of them.”

* * *

There is an awful revelation somewhere around the fifth hour that Quackity has brought his guitar along.

George isn’t even sure how it fits in the car with all of them (Quackity’s been squashed in between Sapnap and Wilbur, surrounded by Techno and Skeppy, for the whole drive). He doesn’t know how he aims to play it, either, without bashing someone in the face with the neck of it.

It soon appears that he doesn’t quite care who falls victim to the instrument, George realises, after three painstaking renditions of Hey There Delilah, sung off key with several modifications to the lyrics. (The back of Techno’s head seems to make a great bassline).

Techno has long since perfected the art of looking unbothered. George watches him in the rearview mirror, watches Quackity and Wilbur and Sapnap chant along to the lyrics Quackity has made up. He considers asking Techno just how he does it.

* * *

“How much further even is it?” George asks. It’s been too long. It’s been way too long. He isn’t sure if he wants to get out of the car and face whatever comes next, or if he wants to stay here for as long as he can.

“Not far,” Dream says. It’s almost reassuring. It mostly isn’t. George isn’t sure if ‘not far’ means five more minutes, or fifty more miles.

“Great,” George says. He slumps back in his seat. The rest of the guys have, thankfully, quietened down. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing. George is trying to look on the bright side.

“Don’t be like that,” Dream says. “This’ll be fun! We’re gonna have such a great time, and by the time we’re going home, you’ll forget you were doubtful at coming in the first place.”

“That reminds me,” George says, “how long _are_ we staying for?”

Dream doesn’t seem to have an answer. He shrugs as best he can. “As long as we want, I guess.”

“So if I want to leave tomorrow, we will?”

“Sure,” Dream says, “if you really really want to. But you’ll give it a chance, right? You’ll at least give it a chance.”

“I guess,” George says. It’s probably the least he could do. He doesn’t feel particularly confident about it, though.

* * *

Dream seems to have a different idea about the meaning of ‘not far’ than the rest of society, George decides, after they’ve been sat for another hour and a half. 

“You know, when you said not far-”

“We’re nearly there,” Dream says before George can finish. “And look. Everyone’s quiet. Isn’t this nice?”

“You probably knocked them all out with your bad driving,” George says.

Dream laughs, “yeah, yeah. Don’t pretend you’re not glad for it. I can see it on your face.”

“Sure, sure. Now, if only they would all stay out for the entire time we’re here,” George says. It makes Dream laugh. “Are you sure we’re nearly there?”

“I promise,” Dream says. “Ten minutes, maybe less.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready to wake them all back up yet,” George admits. “We can just stay here for a bit, right?”

“You want to stay in the car?”

“I want to stay in the car with you,” he corrects. Then he sighs. “But I guess we can’t.”

Dream hums, “we could for a bit. Sapnap can take care of himself. We can send him off with the tents and stay here for a bit.”

“That depends,” George says. “Do you want to have somewhere safe to sleep tonight, or not?”

* * *

It isn’t… that bad.

George doesn’t want to admit it. Maybe it’s better than he thought.

Mostly, it’s Dream, and the way he looks so at home amongst the evergreens. George can just about ignore everything else if he looks at Dream.

“You’re so whipped,” Sapnap says, standing to the right of him. George has to take a long moment to make sure he doesn’t punch him.

“Go away.”

“I just spent, like, a gabillion hours stuffed in the back of a car so your boyfriend could take you on a lame weekend trip,” Sapnap says, “you have no chance of getting rid of me now.”

“Great.”

Sapnap grins. “Isn’t it. You don’t seem very happy about this, you know.”

“Probably because I’m not very happy about it,” George says.

“Don’t be like that, Georgie,” Sapnap says. He nudges George’s ankle with the toe of his shoe. “Dream put a lot of thought into this, you know. He thought you’d like it if all your friends came with you. You know, sometimes I think that guy knows you better than you know yourself.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?” George asks. He turns to look at Sapnap, sighing heavily. “I’m just tired, Sap. Talk to me again tomorrow and I’ll be in a better mood.”

“Was it Quackity’s song?” Sapnap says tentatively.

George has been doing his best to keep it out of his mind. “I think anyone would be exhausted after sitting in a car with you all for more than two hours.”

It makes Sapnap laugh. Everything feels… alright.

* * *

They get tents up eventually. George sits in the bed of the truck and watches instead of getting in the way: Dream, Wilbur, and Sapnap seem to have it handled, in any case. The sun starts to set over the tips of trees, and Dream looks beautiful beneath it.

“George!”

He looks over. Dream waves at him. He’s holding a stack of poles on his shoulder, a carefree sort of grin on his face. 

“George, come look at this!” Dream calls. George watches him drop the poles to the ground, “but come quietly. Slowly, okay?!”

George frowns, almost. He stands, slowly as instructed, and makes his way across the grass like he’s walking across a minefield. When he’s close enough, Dream catches him around his waist, pulling him to his side and hooking his chin over George’s shoulder.

“Shh,” he hisses, in George’s ear. Whispering now, “be quiet. Look over there. Tell me what you see.”

George looks: Dream is a warm, steady weight behind him, and the evening air is cold in front of him. There, in a tree, high on one of the branches. “What is it?”

“An owl,” Dream says, “a tawny owl. If you listen carefully, you might hear his mate.”

George looks to the side. All he sees is the curls of Dream’s hair, and he can’t help himself from leaning closer to him. “How do you know?”

“The females are much larger than males,” he explains, still whispering. It sends shivers down George’s spine, but that might just be the cold. “And they have different calls. Listen.”

There’s silence for a minute. For a long minute. Eventually: the owl opens its beak and calls, echoing through the treetops. George inhales. The air is cold, and it burns the back of his tongue. 

“Wh-”

“Sh, sh, sh.”

George looks back to the owl. There’s a slight silence, before another sound. One he doesn’t recognise.

“What was that?”

“That,” Dream says, with some sort of childish wonder on the underside of his tone, “was the female. His mate.”

“Really?”

“Yep. They’re calling to show their territory,” Dream says, “Tawnies are very territorial. They’re some of the noisiest owls, too. We’ll probably hear more of them tonight.”

“I didn’t realise you liked birds,” George says. He leans back into Dream, “it doesn’t seem like your sort of thing.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“You’re a footballer,” George says, “not a bird watcher.”

“Can’t I be both?”

George blinks. The owl in front of him launches itself out of the tree, swooping over the horizon until he can’t see it anymore. 

Sapnap, from behind them, shouts, “Dream! Do you know how to do this?!”

The breath Dream lets out trickles down the back of George’s collar. “We should go see what they’re up to.”

“We don’t have to,” George says.

“You would leave Sapnap alone with a lighter?” Dream asks. “He’d burn half the forest down if given the chance. We shouldn’t give him the chance.”

“He’ll be fine for a whi-”

“Dream!”

George sighs. “Do you ever get the feeling that we’ve adopted children, instead of made friends and colleagues?”

Dream laughs. The night is cold but his hands are warm, and the grin on his face is worth everything.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“This is… cosy.”_
> 
> _(The laugh Dream tries to smother is not as inconspicuous as he thinks it is.)_
> 
> _“Cosy is not the word I’d use,” Wilbur calls, from his end of the tent. ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!!! hope u like this chapter <3

The tents end up stable. Ish.

At the very least, they’ll probably last through the night. George supposes that's the best he could have hoped for. That’s probably  _ better  _ than he could have hoped for: he’d been half expecting to have to go find a hostel somewhere.

“This is… cosy.”

(The laugh Dream tries to smother is not as inconspicuous as he thinks it is.)

“Cosy is not the word I’d use,” Wilbur calls, from his end of the tent. 

They’ve divided it up into sections, marked by haphazard duct tape - George has never been more glad that Dream brought a separate tent for the two of them. He would rather sleep in the truck than in here. Sapnap has deposited himself (and what looks like half his bedroom) in the section nearest the door, next to Quackity, who hasn’t put the guitar down since they left the truck, and is now cradling it like a child. Wilbur had taken the far end, with Techno begrudgingly agreeing to take the section between Wilbur and Quackity.

George meets Techno’s eye, in a show of what he hopes is sympathetic solidarity. He decides Techno is undoubtedly a stronger man then all of them.

“I hate this already,” Techno informs them all. “I hope you all know I will be plotting your murder in my sleep.”

“We wouldn’t want it any other way,” Wilbur agrees, “and if it comes to it, I will happily become an accomplice.”

“Murder is illegal,” Quackity reminds them. George exchanges a look with Dream, sort of like  _ this is going to be awful _ .

“You think that would stop me?” Techno says

“I would like to remind you that we’re football players, not criminals,” George says, “and I’d really appreciate it if we could avoid calling the police out. Sam would be so upset.”

Dream laughs. “Listen to the Captain, kids. Try and sleep through the night. If any of you need us, well. Don’t.”

“We’re not sleeping yet, are we?” Sapnap asks. “Come on. It’s barely late.”

“It’s not exactly early, either,” Wilbur says.

Sapnap makes a face. “We have loads of time to, you know. Sit around that fire, tell stories. I don’t know. We’re not sleeping yet.”

“Sit around the fire that you couldn’t even get started?” Dream asks, levelling a teasing sort of grin at Sapnap. 

Sapnap returns the glare. “We’d get started again, obviously. But look, Dream drove us all out here, we’re not just gonna waste it sitting around. This’ll be fun! We’re supposed to have fun, do dumb shit in the middle of the night. You know. We gotta make the most of it.”

“We can make the most of it,” George says, “tomorrow morning. When it’s not so dark, or cold.”

Sapnap groans. He clambers to his feet, bounding over to the entrance of the tent, hanging himself over George’s shoulders. “Ughhhhhh. Just because you’re afraid of the dark, George, doesn’t mean the rest of us are. Come oooon.”

George shoves at his bicep. “I’m not afraid of the dark. I’m just having reasonable concerns about hanging out in the middle of the night with no one else around.”

“You think we would let anything happen to you?” Sapnap pouts. He doesn’t shift; instead he pushes himself closer into George’s personal space. “You think Dream would? Come on, Georgie.”

“Don’t call me that,” George says, “also, fuck off. We’ve spent the whole day driving and I’ve had to deal with all of you in an enclosed space for too long.  _ I’m  _ going to sleep. Whatever you decide to do is your problem.”

“George.”

“Sapnap.”

Dream pushes between them, pulling George back far enough that Sapnap is forced to unhook himself. “We’ll do stuff tomorrow. If George wants to sleep, he can.”

“Why did we ever sign you,” Sapnap says, bordering on joking disappointment. Dream gives him a withering look, one that Sapnap willingly mirrors.

“I do want to sleep, thank you, Dream,” George says, “so I will see you all tomorrow. Don’t burn the tents down. Or the forest. Don’t burn anything down. Don’t break anything. Just… sit here, on your hands, all night.”

“You are so boring,” Sapnap says. “But fine. Goodnight, party pooper.”

“Goodnight, Sapass” George says, almost placatingly. 

He leaves the tent before Sapnap says anything else, followed by Dream’s laughter and the echo of Techno’s long-suffering sigh. The zip around the door gets stuck about halfway round, and Dream has to force it the rest of the way. When he looks back at it, he can see the shadows of Sapnap and Quackity moving around, silhouetted on torchlight. 

“Jesus,” he says.

Dream laughs. The air is cold enough now that it leaves his mouth in curls of fog. “They’ll be fine,” he says, “but I see what you mean about child-minding now.”

George screws his face up in a grimace. “Imagine how tired I am. All these years of it.”

“I salute you,” Dream says, “you’ve lasted far longer than I would have alone.”

“I bet we’ll wake up tomorrow and find out that they’ve torn the tent down, burnt it to ash, and are all sleeping under the stars,” George says, “they’ll probably have done it deliberately, too.”

“You think so?”

“I’ll bet you money that they do. We’ll be going home with one less tent than we started with,” George says. Dream unzips the door to their own tent, some small two person affair. It doesn’t really look like it should fit the two of them, but Geroge vastly prefers it to the other one on offer. 

He has to crouch to enter, and Dream has to practically fold himself in half, closing the fabric door behind him. George curls his knees up to his chin on the far side of the tent. There’s a transparent patch in the top, and through it he can see straight up to the moon.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” Dream asks, quietly. Now they’re alone, everything feels like they should be quiet. Like there’s a pressure on their words, pushing them into the earth beneath him until they’ll sprout.

The moon is bright enough that it illuminates Dream enough to make out his eyes and his lips and some of the darker freckles on his nose. It casts shadows in his cheekbones and across the scar on his face, turns him truly ethereal.

“Yeah,” he says, and he honestly means it. “This is nice.”

“Are you still annoyed that we came here?” Dream asks. He crawls across the tent until he can situate himself next to George, pressing the right side of his body against George’s left. They’d piled cushions and blankets in it earlier, and now Dream pulls one over the two of them.

“No,” George says, “...I don’t think I was ever really annoyed.”

“No?”

“I’m glad we came. I’m glad you got everyone to come, too. I’m sorry for being so snappy,” he says, leaning his body into Dream’s like he could climb inside it. “But. This is nicer than I thought it would be.”

“I’m glad,” Dream says, “I really am. I think you’re gonna have a great time this week.”

George is almost reluctant to admit it, but he thinks he will too.

* * *

He wakes up early. The sky is pale grey and slowly lightening, beams of sunrise filtering through the layer of clouds. George sits up, and one of them falls on Dream’s cheek, worming its way through his hair and across his eyelashes. His beauty facilitates the sun and the moon, holding them hand in hand, and George is in awe of it.

George peels himself out of Dream’s arms, sliding his feet into trainers and unzipping the tent as quietly as he can, until he can clamber out onto the grass. It’s wet with dew, and the dampness is refreshing, if cold.

Wilbur is already awake. He’s set up one of the fold away chairs circling the remains of the fire pit Sapnap had tried to start last night, and he’s scrolling through his phone. 

“Good morning,” George says. He blinks sleep out of his eyes and has never felt more awake.

“Morning.”

“You sleep okay?” George asks. He busies himself unpacking a second chair, as well as collecting the camping stove and kettle.

“Yeah,” Wilbur says, “Sapnap and Quackity fell asleep about ten minutes after you left. It was pretty peaceful. Did you?”

George nods. The dawn holds a similar pressure over his words, like the twilight does. But this time, it holds his words in the palm of a hand, nursing them under the eyes of the sun. “Yeah,” he lifts the kettle at Wilbur, “you want anything?”

“Tea would be nice,” Wilbur says. “We have some water jugs somewhere, right?”

He thinks so; George definitely remembers seeing them last night, in any case. He spots one leaning against the outside of the other tent, half empty already, and snatches it, pouring it into the kettle until it’s half full. It takes a few tries to light the gas under the camping stove, but once he has it balanced and lit, and the kettle slowly boiling, he settles into the chair next to Wilbur.

They sit in silence. A nice silence, like they’re both just waking up with the world together. The birds slowly start to arise, twittering from the treetops. The air is clear and the dew is still fresh enough that George can feel it settling onto his cheeks.

It’s been awhile since George has just… breathed. Sitting here with Wilbur is nice. Sitting here is nice. 

The kettle finishes, and Wilbur shuffles out of his chair to fill two mugs with the water and share a teabag between the two. One of the mugs has a chip on the rim. George thinks he’s seen it in Sapnap’s cupboards before.

He hands the chipped one to George before curling his fingers around the ceramic of his own. George does the same, letting the steam seep into the gaps between his bones and warm them. It really is nice

* * *

Before long, the rest of the world stirs. Dream emerges first, still half asleep. He’s shirtless, except for the zip up hoodie he’s left unzipped, and George wonders just how he isn’t cold.

There’s a brief moment of dilemma where Dream eyes a fold up chair and George’s lap. Only precaution allows George to move his half-finished tea out of the way before Dream can upset it by settling himself across George’s thighs. It doesn’t take long before they shuffle into a more cohesive position, Dream with his legs hooked over the left arm of the chair and his arm around George’s neck, and George gripping the back of Dream’s hoodie like his life depends on it. The chair doesn’t seem particularly happy at the circumstances its found itself in, and he wouldn’t be surprised if it gave up any moment now.

Techno wakes next, edging out of the tent like he’s afraid of what might be waiting for him. George would happily wager that anything inside that tent is far more dangerous than anything outside of it, though. Wilbur has a mug of coffee prepared for him, and pushes it into Techno’s hands before he can even ask for it.

Soon enough, Quackity and Sapnap rise too, both looking about two steps away from falling back to sleep. George can’t help but laugh at them, especially when Quackity trips over an abnormally long blade of grass. Sapnap settles himself in a fold up chair next to George, shuffling close enough until he can rest his head on George’s shoulder.

“Tired?” George asks him, lowering his voice so only Sapnap and Dream hear.

Sapnap grunts at him. George smiles, leaning his head atop Sapnap’s. The sun filters through the very tips of the trees, dappled across Dream’s cheekbones and bouncing off into Sapnap’s lap. 

George feels at peace. Dream leans closer until all he smells is his shampoo, and Sapnap breathes into the flesh of his shoulder, and the earth breathes slowly and deeply. George breathes with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you thought!!!
> 
> i have a few points to make!   
>  \- firstly, you may have noticed that these chapter lengths are FAR shorter than BISSI. im trying not to pressure myself so much with updating it; im going to try and post a 2k chapter every week or so. this will hopefully be less stressful for me (im struggling a bit atm, and typing too much is irritating my hand joints a lot, making it very painful to write, so i have to take more/longer breaks than i used to). i hope no one minds the downgrade too much :)
> 
> \- secondly, BISSI recently hit 20k hits, and im just really grateful. i dont even know how much of the audience will carry across, but im so utterly cowed, awed, and honoured. thank you!
> 
> \- lastly, i have some fun things planned for this! how do we feel about karlnap...? :3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I wanna do something,” Sapnap declares. The sun is in the sweet spot between melting through the sky at dusk and burning at its highest point. “We’ve been sat around all day, we should go explore or something.” ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey friends! hope u enjoy this one <3

They arrive at mid-afternoon soon enough. Slowly, everyone wakes up, running on the cold air and lukewarm coffee. George barely leaves Dream’s side. There’s not much to be done, and everyone seems content to stick around the tents, moving sluggishly through the day.

“I wanna do something,” Sapnap declares. The sun is in the sweet spot between melting through the sky at dusk and burning at its highest point. “We’ve been sat around all day, we should go explore or something.”

“Explore?” George repeats, almost doubtfully. “Where even is there to explore around here?”

Sapnap looks at him, and then at the masses of woodland nearby. George makes a face. “Oh, come on, princess,” Sapnap says, “it won’t be that bad.”

“I’m not saying that it’ll be  _ bad,”  _ George says. “Just, what if there’s an axe murderer hiding in the bushes, or something.”

“Seriously?” Dream asks.

“Seriously!”

“That’s a seriously unfounded fear,” Sapnap says, “come on. I’ll be there, Dream will come too, right? Techno could come. No one would get past us. Come on.”

Dream nods, “Yeah, I’ll come. And honestly, George, I’m losing a lot of respect for you as captain. How can you lead a football team but be afraid of a few trees?”

He’s so obviously teasing. George knows he’s teasing. He still feels the fiery beginnings of challenge rise up in his stomach. “...Fine. But if I get murdered, I want it on my gravestone that you can be blamed.”

“It’s going to be  _ fine, _ ” Sapnap says. It’s not exactly reassuring.

They spend a few minutes gathering water bottles and snack bars, informing Wilbur and Quackity and Techno (who had elected to remain at the tent, after all) where they’re going, and trying to calm George’s unnecessary nerves. The sun falls ever lower, and George stares into the thrush doubtfully.

“Are you really afraid?” Dream asks, quietly.

George shrugs, “not really. Kinda. I just don’t want to get lost.”

“We won’t get lost,” Dream says, “as long as we stay on the path, we’ll be totally fine.”

“And how long do you think Sapnap will stay on the path for?” George asks, which is a reasonable concern. The only time Sapnap ever listens to anyone is when they’re on the pitch, and even then it’s a hit or miss.

Dream chuckles, “fair point. Okay. We’ll keep an eye on him. We’ll come back before dark. We’ll take flashlights, and a map. Do you really think I’d let anything happen to you?”

“...No,” George admits, albeit reluctantly. “Okay. We’ll be fine.”

* * *

They are not fine.

George is one wrong move away from shoving Sapnap down a hill, and Dream is absolutely no help. He is, at least, carrying their backpack. It’s the least he could do, George thinks.

“Sapnap?”

He’s gone.

“Sapnap!”

It’s utterly silent. Even the birds are quiet.

“Sapnap!?”

Dream seems slightly concerned now. George looks to him, half horrified. 

“Sapnap!!!”

George is so going to hit him. Sapnap drops down from a tree branch in front of them. George doesn’t even want to think about how he got up there. He’s giggling madly, and seems to laugh harder when George glares at him.

“What the hell were you doing?!”

“Oh, lighten up, Georgie. I didn’t even go far!” Sapnap says. He brushes dirt from his knees, grinning like that will make it all better.

George grimaces. “You went far enough. Come on, Sap. Just… stay nearby. I don’t want to lose one of my star players ‘cause you decided to be a dumbass.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” Sapnap says, “don’t be stupid. Besides, we’re like, the only people here-”

Someone screams.

It makes George jump, and Dream laughs at him.

“What the hell was that?” Sapnap asks. If George didn’t know better, he’d say he was afraid.

“It sounded like a person,” Dream says, helpfully. It’s not as helpful as he surely thinks it is, since George thinks that revelation is actually doubly as terrifying.

“Great,” he says. “A person. Screaming. Out in these unknown woods. In the dark.”

Dream makes a sheepish sort of face. “Well, we should probably go and see what they were screaming about, right?”

“Well, we don’t have to,” Sapnap says, and finally. Something he and George can agree on.

“That does sound like a really bad idea,” George says. “Maybe Sapnap and I can go back to the camp, and you can go and see. And if something  _ is  _ wrong, you can call us for help.”

“You would just throw me to the wolves like that?” Dream asks. “Seriously? Come on. We’re going together, or not at all.”

George would happily vote for not at all. Even so, he finds himself following Dream further along the path and deeper into the forest. The trees seem to lean towards, like some sort of cage. It’s awfully foreboding.

“If we don’t come out of this alive,” Sapnap says, quietly, after they’ve been walking for barely a minute, “just know that I loved you. Both of you. And the team was really great while it lasted.”

“Why are you both acting like you’re walking to death row?” Dream asks. He’s barely two steps ahead, plowing through the undergrowth like nobody’s business. If George wasn’t too busy being nervous for himself, he’d probably be nervous for Dream, too.

“What if we get to whoever screamed, and it turns out to be some creepy murderer, doing unspeakable things to a human carcass,” George says. 

Dream looks aghast. “What are you even talking about? It was probably just a fox anyway.”

“Even though it sounded like a human?” Sapnap says. He looks like he wants to hold George’s hand. George is remarkably close to letting him.

It’s not much further before they come across what must have been the source of the screech. It’s a man, lying half face down in the thrush. If George hadn’t been looking for him, he doubts he would have seen him.

He’s also holding a knife. Alarm bells begin to ring even louder.

Dream crouches beside the man, like he has no regard for his personal safety at all. “Hey. Are you the guy who screamed just now?”

It’s not the best conversation starter George has ever heard.

The man nods. “Yeah. You guys aren’t axe murderers, are you?”

Dream whoops. “Hey, George, listen! This guy gets you!”

“Shut up,” George says, using a withering glare to try and disguise his anxiety, “it was a valid concern at the time.”

Sapnap is notably quiet.

“You need any help down here?” Dream asks the guy, turning away from George. “You seem pretty… stuck.”

“Yeah,” the guy says, with a grimace, “I was just hiking and I tripped. Banged up my ankle pretty bad, I think.”

“It broken?”

“Don’t think so,” he says, “but I haven’t really moved much. It’s supported by a tree branch or something, right now.”

“Huh,” Dream says. “So we don’t wanna be moving you too much, just in case it is. You think we could get you right side up?”

“That would be great, actually,” the guy replies, “should probably introduce myself to my knights in shining armour. I’m Karl.”

“I’m Dream,” Dream says, and then indicates to George and Sapnap, “that’s George and Sapnap. Hey, Sap, come here and help, will you?”

Sapnap doesn’t look overjoyed at the prospect, but he goes anyway. George hangs back a little, still wary. He watches as Dream and Sapnap lift Karl up and around until he’s leaning against a tree, instead of slumped in the bog. He grits his teeth when they move his leg, which isn’t exactly the best sign, and when George manages to get a closer look at it, it’s red and swollen about double the size an ankle usually should be.

“Oh, shit,” Dream says, when he catches sight of it. “You’ve really done a number on your ankle. I don’t know how well you’ll be walking on that right now. George, can you take a look?”

George grimaces; he’s taken the first aid course years ago to put it on his CV, not to assist random men in the middle of the woods. “Sure.”

He kneels next to Karl, pulls the backpack from Dream and unzips it, ever thankful that he’d at least had the foresight to  _ pack  _ a first aid kit (granted, he’d expected to have to use it on Sapnap). He rolls Karl’s trouser leg up to his knee, trying his best to be gentle. Karl still makes a face, digging his fingernails into his other thigh.

“Can I touch it?” George asks.

“Do you have to?”

“If I want to know if it’s broken or not, yeah,” he says, “sorry. You can hold Sapnap’s hand, if you want.”

Sapnap looks affronted, for about as long as it takes for Karl to reach out and take his hand anyway.

“Okay,” Karl says, nodding. George watches him squeeze Sapnap’s fingers, and Sapnap squeezes back. Dream gives him a look, sort of like  _ seriously? _ “I’m ready.”

George swallows. He puts one hand on Karl’s knee, and the other on top of his shoe. Already, Karl looks in immeasurable pain. The skin around his ankle is hot to touch and George can feel his pulse thrumming down his leg. He moves his hand closer to Karl’s ankle, prodding it as gently as he can.

Karl tenses, lets out a long, harsh breath. “Holy shit. That really hurts.”

“I’m not surprised,” George murmurs. He moves his fingertips over the most swollen part, where it’s so red it’s almost gone white.

Karl seems in pain before he even touches it, and when he does, he yelps, “ow, ow, ow, OW, OW!”

George takes his hand away. Even Sapnap is grimacing, presumably from the grip Karl has on his fingers. “Okay. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve cracked it, but I don’t think it’s a break. I can wrap it up and we’ll get you back to our tent, then get you to an emergency room from there. If you’re happy with that?”

“Depends if you have any painkillers in that kit there,” Karl says.

“Only paracetamol, I’m afraid,” George says, “they won’t help much but you can have a couple to take the edge off.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” Karl says. He’s going very slightly pale.

He digs the tablets out, handing them and a bottle of water over. Then George pulls out a strip of bandages and an ankle support, grimacing at the support when he realises there’s no way he’ll be able to get it over the swelling.

“You’re gonna have to take my shoe off, aren’t you?” Karl says, like he knows it’ll hurt and he’s trying to steel himself for it.

“That would probably make it easier,” George says. “You keep holding onto Sapnap while I do it, he can take it.”

“You are so annoying, George,” Sapnap tells him. He doesn’t look particularly bothered by the fact that he’ll just have to keep holding Karl’s hand, though, and he doesn’t make any move to pull away, either.

“Okay, just do it,” Karl says. He inhales deeply, squeezing Sapnap’s hand. George rushes through untying the laces, trying to pull the shoe as wide as he can before slipping it off as carefully as possible.

Karl winces, but he doesn’t make a noise this time. George deliberates between getting the sock off, too, before deciding that that would be more trouble than it’s worth.

“Pain isn’t over yet,” he says, “but I’m nearly done. Okay?”

“Georgie, he’s getting kinda pale, now,” Sapnap says, worriedly. 

“I’m nearly done,” George repeats. “Just… keep holding his hand, Sap, and then we can stand him up and limp back to the camp. Make sure he stays awake, okay? I don’t want him passing out on me.”

Famous last words, George supposes, when he finishes wrapping Karl’s ankle and looks up to Sapnap’s doubtful look. He’s staring straight into Karl’s closed eyelids, like he isn’t entirely sure what to do. He looks like he doesn’t know quite where to put his hands.

George sighs. He packs the remaining bandages away, stacks it all neatly in the backpack as quickly as he can, before calling out, “Dream, do you think you can carry him?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo karls here! i wasnt sure quite how to introduce him, but im kinda happy w/ this. like 40% happy with it. hopefully we'll see their relationship develop nicely!
> 
> thanks for reading. let me know what u think! <3

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! let me know what you thought.
> 
> also, ill probably come back to this at some point. there are a couple of ideas we've had..
> 
> come say hi in [twitter](https://twitter.com/ERR0RGEO)!


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